There'll Be Peace When You Are Done
by SpikeLover7
Summary: Dean's voicemail to Bobby in 7x02: "If you're gone, I swear, I am going to strap my Beautiful Mind brother into the car and I'm gonna drive us off the pier!" What would Dean have done if Bobby really HAD died in the fire that burned down his house? AU, MAJOR WARNING for multiple character deaths. Sad, but hopeful.


**AN:** Title (obviously) taken from Kansas' "Carry On Wayward Son."

My friends and I were playing some Supernatural trivia one night during the SPN Con in NJ last weekend, and the topic came up about what Dean said to Bobby in the voicemail he left him in 7x02. I told them how Dean actually threatened to kill himself and Sam if Bobby was dead, and while they both seemed surprised by that, it got me thinking about how it could have played out.

I fully believe that Dean meant what he said to Bobby…so if Bobby had really died, what would that have meant for the Winchesters? This was what I came up with. This started as a very simple idea, and it quickly took on a life of its own as I continued writing. I'm very happy with the result, and I hope you enjoy it.

* * *

 **There'll Be Peace When You Are Done**

Dean doesn't believe it; he _refuses_ to believe it.

Bobby isn't dead; Bobby _can't_ be dead.

If Bobby's dead….

" _If you're gone, I swear, I am going to strap my Beautiful Mind brother into the car and I'm gonna drive us off the pier! You asked me how I was doing? Well, not good! Now you said you'd be here. Where are you?"_

Dean means it. Every single word of that message he leaves for Bobby is stone cold truth.

The Winchesters have given enough. They've sacrificed enough.

They've lost enough.

Dean can't lose another member of his family. There's no coming back from that.

Not anymore.

So when the Leviathan tells them that it left Bobby's body under the basement stairs, Dean refuses to believe it.

When Sam screams "NO!" and shoots the monster in the side of the head, Dean refuses to believe it.

When the Leviathan just smiles in response, face transforming into a gaping maw lined with jagged teeth and a forked tongue, Dean refuses to believe it.

…

…

…

But when the monster lies crushed under a pile of broken metal….

…when Sam helps him limp back to Bobby's house….

…when Dean looks under the stairs, clinging tightly to his brother's arm….

Then, and only then, does Dean finally let himself believe it.

Bobby Singer is dead.

* * *

They give Bobby a hunter's funeral, out at the edge of the forest behind his yard.

As the brothers wander around gathering wood, Dean limps along numbly on his twisted leg, and he realizes that it doesn't hurt like it should. He doesn't feel any pain.

He doesn't feel anything.

He doesn't feel anything as they stack wood to build the pyre.

He doesn't feel anything as they wrap Bobby's body in a white sheet, or as they carry him to his final resting place….

…

…

…

He doesn't feel anything as he sets the wood ablaze.

* * *

Dean stands next to his little brother as Bobby's body burns.

Sam cries quietly beside him, and Dean desperately wants to reach out and comfort him…but he has nothing left to give.

Not anymore.

It's like losing his father all over again.

Like losing his mother.

Like losing Cas.

Like losing his brother, over and over and over again.

Dean watches silently as their surrogate father burns, smoke rising high into the early morning sky.

Dean has no idea how long they stand there and watch what's left of their family become a pile of ash.

Time means nothing to him anymore. He could stand here for days, for weeks, for months. He could stand here until his legs give out. Until his body succumbs to thirst, to fatigue, to hunger.

He could stand here until he dies, and he wouldn't feel a damn thing.

But he doesn't.

He can't.

Because-

"Now what?" his brother asks quietly, voice trembling and wet with his tears.

Because of Sam.

Dean turns to his brother…and he doesn't think twice before he answers him.

"It's time to go, Sammy."

So he leads his brother back to the only home they have left….

…and he drives.

* * *

Sam has no idea where they're going, but it doesn't matter, because Dean seems to know.

The trees beside the road whiz by.

 _Faster and faster._

Sam has no idea where they're going, but it doesn't matter, because Dean drives with a steady sense of purpose.

The paved road zooms by outside Sam's window, curving higher and higher, yellow lines blurring into infinity.

 _Faster and faster._

Sam has no idea where they're going, or if Dean should even be driving with his hurt leg, but it doesn't matter, because Sam trusts his brother.

Dean stares out the windshield, unblinking, as Baby flies up the road.

 _Faster and faster…._

… _higher and higher._

The sign flies past Sam's window, so fast he almost misses it.

Except he doesn't.

He's seen this sign more times than he can count on their way out of Sioux Falls; he'd know it anywhere.

It's the sign for the scenic overlook.

Sam looks over at Dean as the pieces crash into place.

"I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean whispers, just loud enough that Sam can hear him over the sudden and fierce pounding of blood in his ears. Dean keeps his gaze straight ahead, driving with determination.

Sam looks out the windshield at the road in front of them, stretching up and away.

 _Higher and higher._

 _Faster and faster._

If someone had asked Sam just yesterday to make a list of the ways he expected to die, this wouldn't have cracked the top twenty.

But he doesn't argue with his brother.

He doesn't tell him to stop.

He doesn't scream or cry or insist that Dean turn around.

Because there's no reason to stop.

There's nowhere else to go.

And there's no arguing with Dean.

Not anymore.

The road begins to tilt upward more sharply. Dean presses his foot down harder on the gas, and the Impala roars underneath them.

Sam keeps his gaze forward as the scenic overlook screams closer and closer.

Slowly, he stretches his left hand across the distance between himself and his brother. He puts his hand carefully on Dean's knee, and he can feel his brother's body shaking.

"Sammy…."

Dean's voice trembles even more than his body does as he takes his right hand off the steering wheel and covers Sam's. He digs his fingers under Sam's hand, squeezing tightly, and before Sam has a chance to react Dean flips his hand over and presses down hard against the bandage covering the gash on his palm.

Sam winces in pain, but he doesn't pull away.

"Dean, what-"

But then he gets it.

" _This is real. Not a year ago, not in Hell. NOW. I was with you when you cut it, I sewed it up!... I am your flesh-and-blood brother, okay?... Believe in that! Believe me, okay? You gotta believe me. You gotta make it stone number one and build on it. You understand?"_

This isn't a hallucination.

 _This is real_.

Dean wants him to know that this is really happening.

He's asking Sam to understand this; to accept this.

He's asking Sam to trust him...

…and he's begging Sam to come with him.

One last ride.

One last journey down the road together.

One.

Last.

Time.

Sam's heart thuds faster in his chest until it beats to rhythm of his brother's. His blood sings through his veins to the tune of the Impala's engine humming around them.

Deep down, he knows he should be scared…

…but he's not.

Dean's asking Sam to go with him…and Sam doesn't stop to consider his answer; he doesn't need to.

He could never let his brother do this alone.

Sam tears his gaze away from the road and looks at Dean, sitting tall in the driver's seat.

Dean's right where he belongs: charting their course.

And Sam's right where he belongs, too: at his brother's side, come whatever.

Sam presses his palm against Dean's, ignoring the way his blood seeps through the bandage and stains both of their hands.

He knows it should hurt, but it doesn't.

Nothing hurts.

Not anymore.

He wraps his hand firmly around his big brother's and squeezes.

"I understand," Sam whispers. "It's okay, Dean. It's okay."

Dean gasps, gripping Sam's hand tightly in return as he presses his foot down harder on the gas, his eyes never leaving the road.

"Sammy…."

"I'm here, Dean," Sam assures him, and he holds his brother's hand even tighter. "I'm not gonna leave you."

Dean's left hand begins to tremble against the steering wheel. Sam scoots in closer as he reaches over and grabs the other side of the wheel in his right hand, never letting go of Dean with the other. He helps to keep the wheel steady, helps to keep the car going straight….

…helps to keep them on the road to the end.

"Sammy…."

It's the only word his brother can say.

It's the only word that matters anymore, here at the end of all things.

…And maybe it's the only word that's _ever_ mattered.

"Sammy" is more than just Sam's name, after all, and it always has been.

"Sammy" means "you're my brother."

It means "don't you dare think that there is anything past or present that I would put in front of you."

It means "there ain't no me if there ain't no you" and "I'm proud of us" and "I'm not leaving you, _ever_."

It means "don't be afraid."

"Sammy" means "It's okay, I'm here." …

…

… "Sammy" means " _I love you."_

Sam smiles at his brother, gripping the wheel tighter. He glances out the windshield, and he can just make out the cliff in the distance.

 _Closer and closer._

 _Faster and faster._

He looks back at Dean, and he finds his brother staring back at him quietly, tears falling silently down his cheeks….

…and Dean smiles at Sam through his tears.

"I'll see you soon, brother," Dean promises, squeezing his hand.

Sam smiles softly. There are so many things he could say to Dean, but none of them really matter now.

He's said them all before.

And so Sam simply squeezes his brother's hand and nods.

He holds onto his brother with his left hand and the steering wheel with his right; holds onto his family with one hand and his home with the other.

 _No._

 _No, that's not right._

His family, his home…they're one and the same.

They always have been.

Sam holds on tight to everything he's ever known; everything he's ever truly wanted.

He stays with his brother until the end of the road.

He stays with his brother as the wheels of the Impala leave the paved earth behind.

He stays with his brother as they drive off into oblivion….

…until everything fades to black.

…

…

…

He hears the screech of crunching metal.

He hears his brother call out to him, hears himself calling back.

He smells gasoline and fire, tastes blood in his mouth.

He feels a pain unlike any he's ever felt.

…

He meets Death.

…

…

And then there's nothing.

…

…

…

… Until he hears his brother's voice calling to him.

"Wake up, Sammy. We're home."

…

And Sam opens his eyes for the last time.

… _the end…_

* * *

 **AN:** I wrote this between 8 and 10pm the night of the US Presidential Election, while we waited for poll results to start coming in. I wrote it during a time of stress, when I found myself seeking happiness and comfort. I found both while I was writing this story, and I found both again today while editing it. It's incredibly sad, but incredibly hopeful at the same time, I think.

I can definitely see this as a sort of series finale, as well. Is this what I want for the Winchester's ending? Not necessarily. But I wouldn't be upset with an ending like this. I just hope that however Sam and Dean eventually go out, or however the series eventually ends, it ends the way it started: with the brothers together. I have full faith that it will.

I hope you enjoyed this little story, and I hope it didn't make you too sad. As always, reviews feed my soul. Best wishes and prayers for anyone struggling right now. AKF.


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